Burden Shared: Clark
by charli911
Summary: After the breakdown in his Psychologist's office, Ed takes her advice and speaks with Clark. Spoilers for Broken Peace and Fit for Duty


_**BURDEN SHARED **_

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own Flashpoint and make no money from this story. For entertainment purposes only.

Spoilers for episodes Broken Peace and Fit For Duty

This is the conversation I envisioned once Ed got home that night after his talk with his doctor.

/

Ed Lane closed the door behind him and walked slowly toward the kitchen. It had been a long and emotional day for him. The unexpected session, his breakdown, finally beginning to talk about Mae Dalton and his guilt over her death, had exhausted him. But as he moved further into the house, he heard the music.

He stopped and leaned against the wall as he saw his son, Clark, at his piano. Some sixth sense must have alerted the teen that he was no longer alone. When he saw his father, he tensed.

"Sorry, I can do this later," he said, reaching to flip down the piano lid.

"No, it's okay. Don't stop." Ed smiled. "It's beautiful."

The answering smile from his son as the younger man turned back around to resume playing, lightened Ed's heart. He slipped the jacket from his shoulder and moved over to sit at the table behind the piano. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, allowing the music to wash over him, and ease into his soul.

He hadn't realized he'd drifted off until he felt a hand on his arm.

"Dad, you okay?"

Ed opened his eyes, dismayed at the look of concern evident on his son's face. He smiled. "I am now," he said. When he didn't continue, Clark looked away, the disappointment obvious. Before he could move too far, Ed grabbed his hand. "Don't go, please." When Clark settled back into his chair, Ed took a deep break. "I want to apologize...for how I've been acting toward you lately. I haven't been a very good father."

Clark shrugged and pulled his hand back, crossing his arms in front of him on the table. "You've been busy with work...and Izzy."

Ed nodded. "I have...but that's no excuse...Clark..." Ed closed his eyes and rubbed a hand down his face. He remembered what the doctor said, about Clark being old enough and intelligent enough to handle knowing about his job, about how the job effected him. He wanted to believe that, but wasn't sure he wanted his son to know some of the things he'd done...the people he'd...killed. But, he also didn't want this chasm between them to continue to widen. He knew his son wasn't stupid.

"Is this about what happened today?" Clark asked. "On the ferry?"

Ed looked up in surprise. "You heard about that?"

Clark nodded. "It was all over the news, Dad. I do watched the news," he said, with a small smile. "Aren't you the one who always told me that I had to be aware of what was going on in the world around me?"

"You actually listened to me?"

"I always listen, Dad. When you talk." He shrugged again. "It's just, lately, you been so quiet, so distant. I...I miss talking to you," he admitted.

The quiet words tore at Ed's heart. He and Clark had always been so close when his son was younger. They seemed to be drifting apart as the young man became a teenager. He had hated it, even as he knew it was his fault that it happened. In a way, he was grateful that Clark hated it too. He laid both of his hands on the table, palms up, eyes imploring, until Clark put his own hands into his father's.

Ed rubbed his thumbs across the knuckles on Clark's hands. "I never really appreciated the talent you have in these hands," he said. "And I'm sorry for that. Your music...it brings beauty to the world. These hands...your hands...they make people smile...not like your old man..." Ed released his son, staring at his own hands, rubbing the callus on his trigger finger. "These hands only bring death...grief," he whispered.

Clark was shocked at the pain he heard in his father's voice. The man he had always felt was invincible, strong, fearless, was showing a vulnerability that Clark had never witnessed. It both scared him and left him in awe that his father, the toughest man he knew, would allow him to see behind the mask he normally showed.

"No, not just death and grief," he said. "You save lives too," he insisted.

When his father didn't reply, Clark scooted his chair closer to the table and reached out, wrapping his hands around his father's wrists. "Do you know what I see, what I remember, when I look at these hands?" he asked, raising them up to eye level. "I see strength. I remember these hands picking me up when I fell. I remember them tossing me in the air, just so you could her me laugh. I remember them wiping away my tears when I cried."

When Ed looked up, tears in his eyes, Clark faltered for only a moment. "I remember these hands tickling me when we wrestled on the floor in the living room...helping me put up the tent...teaching me how to fish...helping me figure out a math problem...turning the pages of a book when you read to me at bedtime..."

The tears were flowing down both faces now, as the memories flashed in the minds of father and son. "I remember you never hesitate to pull me close, to hug me, to tell me how much you love me and how proud you are of me."

"I haven't done that much lately," Ed managed to choke out. "Clark...I do love you, so much. And I am so proud you. It's me...I didn't want you to know...I didn't want to lose your respect."

"You've been so distant. So...cold, lately. Dad...I thought...I thought it was because I didn't want to be a cop." Even before he finished the sentence, Ed was shaking his head in denial.

"NO! No, not that. I respect your decision. After everything that's happened...I'm almost glad...you won't have to know how it feels...you won't have to kill..."

Ed closed his eyes, once again seeing Mae Dalton's face, watching her body fall as the blood sprayed from her chest. "She was only eighteen...she shouldn't have died..."

Clark to tell that his father had once again zoned out, but with his hands still wrapped around his father's wrists, he felt the tremors that he didn't think the older man was aware of. He knew that Mae Dalton was the person his dad was talking about, fixating on. In a way, he wasn't surprised. He knew, in his heart, that his father wasn't a cold-blooded killer. And as confusing and frightening as it had been to know that he had shot down the teen, it was more frightening to know that it was still effecting him so severely.

But it also forced him to realize how difficult it had been for his dad. How guilty he still felt, even after all these months. He knew that his father never talked to him about the people he'd had to shoot, to kill, because he didn't want to bring that home, didn't want to sully his family with the ugliness that sometimes came with his job. But this one, this young girl, had been the one that nearly broke him. And as sorry as he felt that she had lost her life, he was also angry with her for forcing his father to do that.

And that, if nothing else, caused him to finally and completely understand the hell that his dad had endured since that night. He'd done his job, but had to kill a teenaged girl. A girl who was only trying to protect her mother from her abusive ex-husband. Mae Dalton had made a choice that night and it caused her death. And Clark was pissed that she had forced his father to shoot her.

"Why didn't she let the team handle it?" he asked, unaware that he'd spoken out loud, until his father moved. Ed stood up, lightly grabbing Clark's arm and pulling him to his feet. He dropped an arm around Clark's shoulder and led him into the living room, pulling him down to sit next to him on the sofa.

"She was afraid," he finally said. "She and her mother had run away and her father kept finding them. He'd been abusive to her mom for years and she felt the only way to stop him was to kill him herself. We always try for a non-violent solution, where everyone gets out safely. But she knew that he would continue to come after them and she just wanted it to stop."

Clark shook his head. "I guess I can understand that. I might be tempted to do the same in that situation." At the look from his father, he gave him a small smile. "Don't worry, Dad, I know that you would never do that. It's not the man you are. You would never abuse Mom or Izzy or me."

Ed sighed in relief. "I could never hurt any of you, not physically. But I know that I have hurt you...and your mom."

"Why?"

Taking a deep breath, Ed thought about that question. "Because...I am an idiot. I wanted to believe that I could get through this, that I didn't need help."

"And now?"

Ed leaned his head back and slumped down. "Now, I know better. I'm not as strong as I want to believe I am."

"Bull!"

"Excuse me?" Ed inquired, turning to look at his son.

Clark turned to face his father, pulling one leg up underneath him. "You are the strongest man I have ever known. You think it's weak to ask for help? It's not. It's just means you're smart enough to realize you can't do it on your own." Clark shook his head, torn between anger and concern. "Dad, I have watched you over the last few months pull away from this family, trying to deal with all of this on your own. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know how to help, or if you would bite my head off if I tried." He held up his hand when Ed opened his mouth. "I know. You didn't want to bring it home. But you've always told us that we are your support, that we ground you. But then you never let us support you in the important stuff."

For several long seconds, neither of them spoke. Then Ed reached over and laid a hand on Clark's knee. "I am the luckiest man in the world, to have you for a son," he said, causing Clark to blush. "I owe you an apology for being so stubborn. You and your mom have been more patient than I had the right to expect."

Clark smiled. "We knew you'd come around eventually," he remarked. "You are getting help now right?"

Ed breathed out a deep breath. "Yeah. I've been seeing this doctor that Greg recommended. I saw her this afternoon, in fact. Things...came to a head. I was finally able to talk about..."

"...Mae Dalton?" Clark finished. When Ed only nodded in reply, his son pressed. "Tell me about her?"

It took a few minutes for Ed to gather his thoughts. He turned to face the window outside, but he kept his hand on Clark's leg. "I only knew her for an hour, maybe a little more. She was so young, beautiful, and she spoke her mind. She...her father had abused her mother for years. Her mom, Michelle, finally got the courage to leave and she took Mae with her. But Mae's father kept finding them. This last time...he was desperate. He'd lost his job. He was on the verge of getting evicted. And he blamed it all on Michelle."

Clark watched his father's face as the older man relived that night. He saw guilt, regret, shame and fear...he also saw exhaustion and frustration. And he wasn't sure which one scared him most.

"Mae...she made me and Greg both promise to keep her and her mother safe. And we failed. I failed."

Behind the two Lane men, Sophie had quietly walked down the stairs. Not wanting to interrupt, she took a seat there, listening to her husband pour out his soul to their son. Although Ed had told her a bit about that night, she knew she hadn't heard the whole story. She felt only slightly guilty eavesdropping, knowing that Ed would understand and forgive her if he found out. She was actually a bit surprised he hadn't noticed.

"He found Michelle in the kitchen. We thought we'd surrounded him there, had him contained. But the alarm went off...I guess in the rush to get out of there, one of the chefs left something on the stove or something and it started smoking up the room. Then...Michelle's boyfriend tried to intervene...things...things got out of hand. He...he was able to get into the elevator with Michelle."

"He took her to the roof?"

Ed gave a small smile, shaking his head. "Spike took them to the roof."

"He overrode the elevator."

Ed nodded. "We didn't want him to get into the main hotel...too many people...he might have slipped past us. Sam and I took up Sierra positions." He stopped and looked at Clark. "Sierra means...sniper positions." Clark just nodded. Ed turned away again, watching the trees moving in the wind outside the window, knowing that Mae would never feel the wind in her face ever again, never see trees again, never...

He should his head, trying to get his thoughts back on track. He felt Clark move beside him, getting close enough to press his shoulder against his father's. Ed felt a calmness come over him, allowing him to continue.

"Her father was agitated, yelling at Michelle and waving the gun around. Greg was doing his thing, but the father wasn't listening. I'm not sure he even realized we were all there. He was looking for Mae. It was...it was her birthday," he said softly.

He cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on the fact that he'd killed the girl on a day she should have been celebrating. "Mae wanted to come up, to talk to her father, see if she could get through to him. Greg...he wasn't sure it was safe...but Mae's father...he only wanted to see his daughter. We thought... we thought he might calm down if he could just...see her, talk to her." Ed shook his head. "We never thought...we never thought she'd have a gun."

Clark put a hand on his father's shoulder. Ed raised a hand and set it on top of his son's. "We found out later that she'd been carrying in with her for weeks, just in case. She didn't trust the police to protect her or her mother. She didn't trust us."

Clark could see that the idea that Mae Dalton hadn't trusted him bothered his father. "She was wrong not to trust you, Dad. She was wrong."

Ed took his hand from Clark's. "No, in the end, she was right. She was right not to trust us. We promised...*I* promised to keep her safe and I...I shot her," he said, barely able to get the words past the lump in his throat. "All she wanted was to be safe...and I killed her. I took away her future. I took a child from her mother." His voice cracked at the last word and he seemed to fold in on himself, dropping his face into his hands.

Clark was at a loss for what to do, but finally just did what felt right. He moved his hand to the back of his father's head and pulled him close. It was a reversal of roles that Clark never expected, but he felt honored to be able to give this to his father. He'd seldom seen his dad cry, and the sobs that were coming from the man now were so out of the norm that it scared Clark, but he just tightened his hold.

Behind them, Sophie held a hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. She'd known that her husband had been fighting some demons, but she hadn't realized just how deeply he'd been affected by the incident on that hotel roof. She knew what people often thought about a man who could do the job that Eddie did, how he must be without a conscience or morals. But she knew that he felt things more deeply than most _because _of his job. She wiped her eyes and quietly headed back upstairs, allowing father and son to have this time.

It was several minutes before Ed pulled back, wiping at his eyes. He reached up and took Clark's face in his hands. His voice was still somewhat breathless as he spoke. "I love you so much. I never wanted you to be touched by what I do. I'm so sorry that I shut you out. I didn't want you to think I was weak. I didn't want to lose your respect…your love."

Clark was shaking his head. "Never. That would never happen. I love you, Dad. I do respect you…and the job that you do. And weak? Don't even go there. You are the strongest man I know. A weak man wouldn't have asked for help, wouldn't have accepted help. I. Am. So. Proud. Of you!"

Ed wrapped his arms around his son and held him tight, Clark's arm moving around his father's back. They had both learned about the other this night. The father had learned that he could show weakness without being weak. The son had learned that he was strong enough to support his father and that his father was strong enough now to accept that support. They had grown.

They stayed awake for several hours talking, learning about each other, and reconnecting. When Ed finally looked over to find Clark dozing against his shoulder, he gently woke him up and guided him to bed. Once he was settled under his covers, Ed sat down beside him and brushed his hair back, then leaned down to kiss his forehead.

"Goodnight, son. I love you."

"Love you too, Dad," Clark mumbled. "Good night."

Ed pulled the blankets up, smoothing them out, then reached over to turn off the small lamp on the nightstand. He sat there until he was sure Clark was asleep, then carefully stood up and walked out of the room, glancing back once before pulling the door shut, smiling as he walked down the hall. He checked on Izzy, making sure she was covered, before heading to his bedroom.

He undressed, then slipped under the covers, lying down on his side so he could watch his wife sleep. He'd known she was sitting on the stairs when he talked to Clark, but didn't say anything because he felt she had a right to know everything he was telling Clark. He needed her to know. He knew they would discuss it in the morning and realized that he was alright with that.

As he moved closer and slid his arm around her waist, he knew that he would be okay. That _they_ would be okay. He had finally shared his burden—with the doctor, with his team and with his family. And the burden seemed lighter for all the shoulders that now helped him to carry it. He felt like he could finally sleep without the continuing nightmares. He could finally, finally have peace.

The End

9


End file.
